


Not So Super

by charlesdk



Series: Tumblr Fics [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Attempt at Humor, Derek Hale as Superman, Friends to Lovers, Identity Reveal, M/M, Nerd Derek Hale, POV Stiles, Police Officer Stiles Stilinski, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-15 01:50:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9213809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlesdk/pseuds/charlesdk
Summary: Superman has a crush on Stiles. How does Stiles know? Well, there's the fact that he can't do his damn job without Superman swooping in and saving the day. And there's the fact that he sticks around and chats him up afterward too. Stiles is a cop and knows how to read signs, so it's not just him being full of himself.It's flattering, sure, but Superman is boring and Stiles has no interest in him. No, he much prefers the dorky reporter Derek Hale.





	

Metropolis.

Population of approximately eleven million people, overseen by mayor Fleming – all previous mayors dead or corrupted, some both. Jury's still out on this one. Home of the Metropolis Spartans and the United States' favorite alien and most beloved superhero, Superman.

When Superman came to Earth, Stiles had watched in awe and wonder as the news and media went haywire over his arrival. He had been back in Beacon Hills, California back then, watching and holding his breath along with the rest of the world as the previously unknown alien showed himself to be good. To be a hero, continuously.

Growing up, Stiles had been just like any other kid; fascinated by superheroes and dressing up like one at any given opportunity, wearing blankets over his shoulders and running around in his house and in the backyard and up and down the street, pretending to be the kind of hero he read about.

So when a real life superhero – an alien, but it counted – came to Earth and saved people and was the hero he, as a kid, had pretended to be, Stiles wanted nothing more than to watch it happen up close.

He worked his ass off at the police academy and said his farewells to the little town of Beacon Hills, when he got a job at Metropolis' police department, excited and happy and nervous to be moving to the home town of the famous superhero.

It had now been a good four months since he had moved there, and Stiles found it utterly and completely … boring.

“You can't be serious,” Erica Reyes – his partner on the force and first friend in Metropolis – said flatly.

“I'm completely serious,” retorted Stiles, as he did yet another spin in his office chair, the chair he was laid out on, head tilted back against the headrest and a pencil balanced between his upper lip and nose. “I'm so bored, _this_ ,” he gestured to himself pointedly, “is what I've come to for entertainment.”

Erica snorted, and Stiles glanced her way. She was still sitting by her own desk, phone in hand and thumb moving absently over the screen. Her eyes were on him though, watching him with amusement.

The police station was as loud as it always was; phones ringing and officers talking among each other, and Stiles had been spinning around in his chair and had resorted to find entertainment from his desk utensils for the past hour.

It was, to say it nicely, absolute hell.

Boredom, however, was bound to come to an end in Metropolis. For at least a little while.

Stiles was on his hundredth spin in his chair, a ball of paper falling back into his hands, when commissioner Corporon came stalking out of his office and said, with his voice booming like it did every day, “Stilinski! Reyes! Bank robbery in New Town. Handle it.”

Stiles flew out of his chair in the wink of an eye, only just yelling out, “Finally!” before he stormed out of the station, leaving Erica to gather a few other officers with a roll of her eyes.

Truth to be told though, he didn't just rush out of there because boredom was eating away at his brain. That was only half the reason. The other half was the exact same reason he had moved to Metropolis in the first place, the reason his job had become boring rather than exciting like he had thought and hoped it would be.

Superman.

Stiles only just got a foot out of the police cruiser when Erica slammed on the breaks by the bank currently being robbed, before there was a sudden rush of air flying past him, and he spotted a red cape flapping in the wind and disappearing into the building.

Hand on the gun by his hip, he turned to look at Erica, assuming she was on her way out of the other side of the cruiser. She wasn't. Instead, she was still in her seat and looked unbothered and completely disinterested.

“Seriously?” he questioned, giving her a look of disbelief. “You're just gonna sit there and let that jackass do all the work for you?”

Without taking her eyes off of her phone she had fished out of her pocket, Erica said, “Yep,” popping the p.

Stiles groaned and rolled his eyes. With a shake of his head, he rushed toward the bank entrance, gun in his hands even though the alarm had stopped and there were no sounds of fighting or gunfire anymore. He knew what had happened, of course. He had seen Superman fly in there after all, but he was still going to do his damn job.

Even if lately, there hadn't been much of a job to do. Not for him, at least.

Because Superman was always there to save the day, no matter how big or how small the amount of trouble he was in was. And apparently, Stiles was the only one at the station who couldn't do his job. Apparently, Superman didn't go around saving every other officer in Metropolis, just him. _Always_ him.

Frankly, it was annoying, and Stiles was getting real tired of it.

Appreciated it, sure, but he didn't go through months of hard work at the academy to just have some superhero do his job for him every. single. time. Honestly, didn't the guy have something better to do, like fight other aliens or meta humans or throw some punches with the bat over in Gotham?

And surprise, surprise. Just like every other time, Superman had managed to knock out the criminals and was walking back outside by the time Stiles had taken maybe ten steps toward the entrance. Stiles sighed heavily as he shoved his gun back in its holster.

“Saved the day again, huh,” he said, not even trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice or off of his face this time. Not that Superman seemed to notice anyway, because he just send him that stupidly kind smile, that had Stiles' knees going weak and his fanboy heart pounding the first few weeks of this.

Now, he just glared in return.

“Looks like it, yeah,” said Superman, the smile not faltering as he turned to watch the other officers – Erica included, the smirking bastard – rush into the bank with handcuffs ready.

Stiles hummed noncommittally. He turned, ready to follow his partner into the bank, but then Superman spoke up again.

“So,” he said, stepped closer. The smile was softer now. “What have you been up to lately?”

Lately, Stiles guessed, meant the last seventeen hours where they hadn't seen each other. Seventeen hours since the last call that Superman had saved Stiles from. Or rather, interrupted him in the middle of.

“Oh, you know,” Stiles said with a shrug, trying to be as obvious as he possibly could be that he was done with the conversation via body language. Superman was an alien, though, and he probably didn't catch on. Scratch that, he definitely didn't. “Just the usual. Becoming a pro paper ball player. Managed to dunk it in the trashcan from my desk on only the seventh try. New record.”

Superman laughed and opened his mouth to say something else, probably something flirty because that was what he did occasionally, but in the wink of an eye, his entire face changed. His jaw clenched as his head whipped around, shoulders tense and hands curling into fists.

After months of this, Stiles was able to recognize that look. It was the look Superman always had whenever he heard something Stiles' human ears would never be able to pick up.

“I have to go,” Superman announced. He bend down in his knees and then jumped, flying up into the air and leaving Stiles to watch him soar across the city.

Stiles only watched after him for a second too long, before he scoffed, muttered, “Dick,” to himself, and headed for the bank to help his fellow officers.

 **[** … **]**

It wasn't all bad in Metropolis, if Stiles was being completely honest. He had a great partner, lived in a decently sized apartment on a somewhat quiet street, had a few acquaintances here and there, and, of course, the dorky reporter that had taken claim of his heart the second Stiles had laid eyes on him.

Derek Hale, reporter at Daily Planet. He was by far the best part of all of Metropolis, and Stiles was completely and utterly smitten with him and his dorky glasses and nerdy personality and social awkwardness and tendency to blush at pretty much everything Stiles said to him.

There was just one problem; Erica was Derek's best friend, and Stiles wasn't sure if that was a blessing or a curse.

It was a blessing because Derek visited her at the station a lot, which meant Stiles got to see him too, and there was a nearly daily opportunity for the flirtations that Stiles seized to whenever he could. Just to see that adorable flush Derek always did, the way he stammered out an uncertain response, and the way he almost always nearly bumped into something or someone on his way back out.

A blessing because Erica was an insight to Derek, but a curse because Stiles was definitely not subtle about his crush. He knew Erica knew and if Erica and Derek were anything like Stiles and his best friend, then they told each other everything.

Which meant Derek most likely knew how he felt. And considering the lack of flirting back, that meant he wasn't interested or he was taken. Or straight, but god, Stiles really fucking hoped not.

That would just be typical though, wouldn't it? Move to a new place, fall for a straight boy. Perfect.

Worst of all, Erica refused – _always_ refused, no matter how much he begged and bribed and pleaded – to tell him anything about Derek.

Case and point; exactly one hour after they had returned from the scene of the crime back at the bank, the criminals behind locked bars.

“Heads up,” Erica called out, pulling Stiles out of his report writing zone. She stood up from her desk with a grin on her lips and her brows waggling in a teasing and suggestive way. “The man of your heart is about to be here, and you look like you've just rolled out of bed.” She turned toward the front of the station, calling out over her shoulder, “And not in the sexy way!”

Stiles scrambled, the pen immediately flying out of his hand. His hands flew to his head, and he tried to fix his supposed bedhead as quickly as he could. Quickly, because he could see Derek coming in through the front doors, already smiling at Erica and shifting his messenger bag out of the way to greet her with a hug.

By the time Derek and Erica stepped fully into the station, Stiles was leaning back on his chair and tried to look as casual as he possibly could. Which, judging by Erica's quirked and judgmental brow, wasn't actually working. Not even a little bit.

“'Sup, Derek,” he greeted him, grinning lightly when Derek met his eyes and blushed just a little, ears going red. “Looking good today.”

And he did. With his pale plaid shirt perfectly fitted across his chest – honestly, how could a person this big of a nerd be this well in shape, Stiles would never be able to understand it, but he very much appreciated it – and dorky glasses in place and that dumb messenger bag he always carried with him.

He was adorable, and Stiles threw a wink after his statement, beaming in delight when he saw Derek's ears burn bright red.

“Hey, Stiles,” Derek greeted back and fidgeted slightly with the strap of his bag.

Erica looked between the two of them for a second, then rolled her eyes and sighed heavily as she moved back to her desk. “You two are ridiculous,” she muttered quietly.

Stiles only just heard her because she was closer to him now, and apparently Derek heard her too because he ducked his head and his ears burned.

“Fuck,” Stiles let out in a lowered breath, eyes firmly glued to Derek. And when Derek looked back at him through his lashes, Stiles cleared his throat and looked down at his report.

“Anyway,” he heard Erica say, her chair whining as she spun around. “Derek, you wanted that statement, right?”

Stiles immediately snapped his eyes back up to see Derek nodding and moving over to Erica's desk. “Oh, you're writing a section on the robbery?”

Derek looked at him and said, “Yeah, boss would usually have me writing the sports section and put Jimmy on the Superman front, but Jimmy's taking a trip to National City, so I got put on it.”

“Well,” Stiles drawled, turning his chair slightly. “If you want, I've got my report right here,” he pointed down at it. “You could take a look at it, and I can tell you all about it.”

Derek smiled at him and slowly shuffled over. “Yeah? Thank you, Stiles.”

“Anytime, Derek,” Stiles replied easily, returning his smile.

Derek stood and took notes, as he intently listened to Stiles going over the robbery and how Superman saved the day, _again_. He tried not to let it slip that he found it a little bit (read: a lot) annoying, but it just, y'know, slipped, and Derek frowned at him for a second, before he continued to take notes.

When he was done and finished, Derek left with a half hug from Erica, and Stiles sighed dreamily after him.

He was silent for all of two seconds, before he turned to Erica and asked, “Dude, is he single? And very not straight?”

The snort that escaped from Erica was stupidly ridiculous and long and, honestly, gross, and the snort developed into a loud laughter, as she rose from her seat and sauntered away.

“That's not an answer, Reyes!” Stiles yelled after her, and her laughter only got louder.

 **[** … **]**

“Fuck,” Stiles grunted as his back slammed against the concrete wall. His gun was tightly clenched in his hands, and gunfire sounded all around him.

He looked to his left where two officers cowered further to one side, bullets ricocheting off of the other side. He looked to his right, where Erica was flinching each time a bullet went anywhere near her, and he cursed quietly to himself three times in a row.

What had been a seemingly simple store robbery had become a shootout the second they had showed up to interrupt the robbers, and they were pinned down. The robbers were bound to run out of bullets sometime, but a lot could happen until then.

For instance, they could get away and Stiles wasn't having that. This was the first time it looked like he was going to be able to do his job in months, after all, and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to do it right.

Panting, Stiles reached for his radio and brought it to his lips. “211, requesting backup!” he yelled over the gunfire. He opened his mouth to repeat it, when there was a rustle of wind and something- some _one_ landing to his immediate right.

“Okay, never mind,” he breathed into the radio, eyes on Superman giving him a reassuring smile.

Stiles watched as Superman turned to the robbers, bullet ricocheting off of his chest and landing on the ground around his feet, and he watched as Superman's eyes shot lasers at the robbers. He watched as Superman took in a deep, deep breath and blew a massive amount of wind toward the robbers, and he listened as the shooting stopped and the robbers yelped and were knocked out as bodies thumped against concrete.

Heaving a sigh, Stiles slumped against the wall and lowered his gun, while Erica and the other officers stormed out from their cover spots and ran to the knocked out robbers. Meanwhile, Stiles took a second to breathe before he stood up and turned to Superman, who was giving him that stupidly perfect smile.

“Thanks, Supes,” he said, keeping his expression carefully displeased. “Really saved our asses right there.”

But Superman's smile just widened as he nodded and said, “I'm just here to help, officer Stilinski.”

“Yeah,” Stiles said, and even to his own ears he sounded bitter. Just a little bit. “You sure did.”

The thing was, Stiles suddenly didn't find Superman that annoying anymore. The guy did just save their lives, after all, but he also prevented him from doing his goddamn job yet again, so no. Stiles wasn't going to be like the rest of the damn city and kiss his ass or drop to his knees in thanks.

Guy wasn't all bad, though.

Superman smiled at him, looked over at the other officers, and then flew off. And Stiles looked after him for a few seconds too long, before Erica pointedly cleared her throat.

 **[** … **]**

Stiles rubbed his hands together and grinned down at the sandwich laying on the plate in front of him. “Fuck, you guys, I am starving,” he told his lunch companions, before he reached down and wrapped his hands around the sandwich, carefully picking it up.

Erica snorted to his left, while Derek huffed to his right, but he paid them no attention and just started devouring the sandwich. His teeth sunk into it and he practically moaned as the first bite landed in his mouth. He knew he heard Derek clear his throat, saw him squirming in his seat, and Stiles probably have grinned widely and winked at him, but he was a little preoccupied.

“Fuck,” he moaned as he chewed. “I'm gonna cream my pants, this is so fucking delicious.”

“Do we need to leave you and the sandwich alone for a minute?” Erica teasingly asked, and Stiles glanced at her. She was grinning widely back at him.

Snorting, he said, “Please. I don't finish in a minute. I'd need, like, a whole day to make sweet, sweet love to this one.” Except his words were muffled by the huge bite of sandwich he had taken a second ago, and what he said was barely audible.

That didn't stop him from looking at Derek and throwing him a wink, though.

Derek flushed and rolled his eyes at him, shaking his head lightly. “Doubt you've got the stamina for that,” he muttered quietly, almost too quietly, but Stiles caught it.

Stiles turned to him and gaped, uncaring of the chewed sandwich bite still in his mouth. Erica called him gross, and Stiles said, “You are a fucking asshole, Hale,” but there was a grin on his lips and amusement in his voice. “Be careful or you might taint your perfect Good Guy image.”

“Maybe it could use a little tainting,” said Derek, and Stiles could have sworn there was a bit of flirtation in his voice. The look Derek was giving him, however? That was definitely flirting.

Stiles sunk his front teeth into his bottom lip and looked back, sandwich momentarily forgotten. Derek was so much better than an orgasmic sandwich, anyway.

Erica clearing her throat pointedly startled the both of them out of their prolonged eye contact. “So Stiles,” she said with a sweet smile when they both turned to look at her. “What are your thoughts on Superman?”

If Stiles had looked at Derek, he would see him glaring daggers at Erica, silently telling her to shut up. But he was looking at Erica, so he didn't see.

He groaned loudly and threw his head back for a moment. “Oh my God, he's so annoying!” he complained loudly. “And he's so boring too. Like, the dude's too perfect, ya know? He's impenetrable and immune to everything, I'm guessing. He's super strong and has fucking laser beams for eyes and can make a hurricane with his mouth and fucking _fly_ and all that crap, and it just,” he shrugged, “it gets so boring, doesn't it?”

Erica hummed noncommittally, Derek was quiet, and Stiles continued. “I mean, don't get me wrong, Superman's probably a super nice guy, but it's infuriating! He's so flawless, it's annoying. The bat in Gotham, though? That guy is interesting.”

Erica hummed again and asked, “So you don't like Superman?”

Stiles lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “He's okay, I guess. Just really annoying, that he constantly swoops in and saves the day. I haven't been able to do my job in months! I didn't work my ass of at the academy to have some alien asshole do it for me,” he finished and leaned forward in his seat with a huff.

He picked his sandwich up and moved to take a bite, when his eyes moved to his right and saw Derek frowning down at his lunch. Which was when it hit him.

“Oh shit,” said Stiles, lowering his sandwich and looking apologetically at Derek. “Fuck, I just totally insulted your hero. I'm so sorry, Derek, I'm sure he's a nice guy and all-”

“He's not my hero,” Derek said sharply, interrupting whatever Stiles was going to say next. Without looking up, he stood up and grabbed his messenger bag. “I'm gonna go back to work,” he said and left before Stiles could utter a single word.

A worried crease appeared between Stiles' brows as he watched Derek storm off. He really fucked up there, didn't he?

“Shit,” he muttered quietly to himself, then turned to Erica. She was frowning too, looking after Derek with a worried look in her eyes. “Did I just hurt his feelings?”

Erica looked at him, took a second, then shrugged. She said nothing though, and Stiles was left feeling like the total asshole he probably was.

 **[** … **]**

Balancing the plastic tray over-filled out with take-out coffee cups, Stiles slowly pried the door to the police station open and slipped inside. He was careful not to spill the coffee, flashbacks to the time he actually did and ended up scalding himself and another officer playing in his mind on repeat.

“Careful,” he muttered quietly to himself and let go of the door after it closed, so he could grab the tray with both hands. The tip of his tongue stuck out between his slightly parted lips, as he maneuvered further into the station, eyes firmly on the tray as he walked.

Which, retrospectively, probably wasn't a good idea. He should probably be looking where he was going, but he didn't.

He did, however, make it inside without tripping over himself and his own dumb feet or bumping into anyone or spilling the coffees, so he took it as a win either way.

It was when he was just ten small steps into the station, that he lifted his gaze and looked up, instantly spotting Derek standing by Erica's desk. The two of the were talking in hushed voices, and Derek looked nervous or maybe scared or maybe both, while Erica was fixing him the You're An Idiot look, that she had given Stiles plenty of times in the past.

Slowly, Stiles walked closer and caught the tail-end of their conversation.

“Honestly, you should just tell him,” said Erica.

“Are you insane?” Derek almost exclaimed, but in a hushed voice. “I can't just tell him, he'd hate me!”

Curiosity got the best of Stiles right then and there, and he walked over and interrupted with, “Tell who what?”

Immediately, the atmosphere changed. Derek's face closed off as he stood back up after having hunched down to the hushed conversation, and Erica shot him only a quick look, before she reached out for her coffee.

“Nothing,” was Derek's quick reply. He scratched the back of his neck – a nervous habit that Stiles had noticed – and his eyes flickered around almost nervously. “I, uh... I'm gonna get back to work,” he decided with a nod.

Stiles frowned, just slightly. “Are you sure? I mean, you're not still mad at me for thinking Superman is lame, are you?”

Erica huffed into her coffee, and Derek shook his head, a little smile tugging at his lips. “No, I was never mad at you for that, Stiles. I should get back to work, though. I've got a sports section to take care of.”

Stiles nodded, a quick few bops of his head. “Yeah, okay,” he said with a half shrug. “See you around, then.”

Derek nodded back at him, shared a look with Erica that Stiles guessed was significant and probably a silent conversation, and then he left. But not before nearly bumping into an officer coming walking past him, and Stiles smiled fondly.

There was the Derek he knew and liked so much.

“What was that about?” Stiles found himself asking, as he turned to Erica.

Erica glanced his way only momentarily, before she sighed and said, “It's not my thing to tell, Stiles. If he wants you to know, he'll tell you eventually.”

She turned away then and sat down at her desk, taking a sip of her coffee. Stiles frowned, confused and worried that whatever Derek wasn't telling him was something bad. But he shook it off and moved around to sit at his own desk, turning to Erica.

“So hey, guess what,” he started, putting on a crooked grin. “You know how Superman always shows up to do my job, right?” Erica looked up, interested. “I finally figured out why. Well, at least I think so.”

“Oh really?” she drawled and leaned forward. “Do tell.”

“Isn't it obvious? He's got a crush one me!”

Erica was mid-sip when he said it, and she choked and spluttered, coffee going everywhere on her desk. And spluttering and coughing turned into laughing – a laughing that just would not stop, tears prickling at her eyes.

“What's so funny?” Stiles asked in a raised voice, because her laughter was just so loud. “I'm being serious!”

“Oh God, stop,” she wheezed, waving a hand in front of her. “You're gonna kill me.”

“Stop laughing at me, I'm serious!”

Her laughter subsided just a little, and she wiped carefully under her eyes. “God,” she let out in a chuckling breath. “I know you're serious, that's what's funny.”

“What, so you don't think Superman has a crush on me?”

And the laughter started again, and Stiles threw his hands up.

 **[** … **]**

Days off were both a blessing and a curse.

A blessing because Stiles got to laze around in his sweatpants and baggy tees, skip his shower and morning run. A blessing because he could catch up on the sleep he had been missing for the past couple of months since his last full day off, and catch up on shows he had been putting off watching and been avoiding spoilers like the plague about.

But days off were a curse, because he so often got bored with just lazing around and doing nothing.

Not this time, though. No, this time he didn't get out of bed until ten am, ate cereal in his underwear on the couch while watching children's cartoons, and then spend the rest of the day not moving his ass from the couch.

Only for a few minutes to put on some sweatpants, brush his teeth, and get some more food.

There was a bowl half filled with cooling pasta and sauce on the coffee table and Stiles was spread out on his two person couch, when there was a series of rapid and determined knocks on his door. Craning his head around, he glanced at the door, then sighed and threw his head onto the arm of the couch.

The knocks came again a minute after, and Stiles finally pulled himself up from his laze position with a groan. “I'm coming!” he called out, when there were another few knocks, softer this time.

He stretched his arms over his head on his way over to the door, back and shoulders popping and a groan escaping him. Being on the couch all day; not such a good idea, after all. Thought was good, but reality? Not so much.

Rolling his shoulders once or twice, he reached out for the handle and opened the door, faltering only slightly when he saw who was on the other side.

“Derek,” he said, offering said reporter a slightly hesitant smile. “Hey. What are you doing here?”

Derek's face was hard and guarded, not an expression Stiles had ever seen on him. His brows were furrowed and only just popped up behind the frame of his glasses, his eyes full of... something. Nerves? Yeah, the guy looked nervous as all hell, so Stiles said nothing and waited.

“I have something to tell you,” Derek finally said, chest rising and falling as his breath quickened.

Stiles nodded and stepped aside, gesturing for him to come inside, which Derek did. There was no dumb, nerdy messenger bag slung over his shoulders, but the outfit was still the same as it always was. Nerdy and dorky and so Derek, that his facial expression completely threw Stiles off.

“So, what's up?” Stiles asked and closed the door behind them, before he followed Derek further into the small apartment. There really wasn't much to it. The kitchen and living room were between the same walls, and it were only the bedroom and bathroom that got their own doors. At least it had nice lighting and good wi-fi.

“Well,” Derek started with a heavy sigh, his head ducked down slightly but eyes on Stiles. Bashful. “There's no easy way to say this, so I'm just going to get straight to the point.”

“Okay,” said Stiles slowly, nerves spiking in him as well.

A silence followed, before Derek took in a deep breath and said, “I'm Superman.”

Stiles blinked. Then blinked again. “Um, what?”

Derek ducked his head, clearly hesitated, then brought his hands up and slid off his glasses. And when he looked back at up, he repeated himself, and Stiles stopped breathing and started gaping, eyes widening.

“Holy shit,” he let out in a rush of a breath. “You're Superman.”

Panic replaced the nerves that had previous rushed through him. Not because he was afraid of Superman, but because-

“I insulted you!” Stiles exclaimed in a squeak, hands flailing. “To your face! Multiple times!”

Derek's face went from guarded and hard to falling into an almost sad one, and he lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “You didn't know.” He paused for a moment, taking in a deep breath. “But now you do, so I'll just leave you alone from now on.”

Derek made it exactly three steps past Stiles, before Stiles flew out of his freaked out state, grabbed his elbow, and pulled him back. His hands flew to his glasses-free face, and he hauled him in to kiss him. Square on the mouth, no hesitation.

And Derek, after letting out a surprised noise, kissed him back, arms circling around Stiles' middle as their lips slid together.

The kiss was great, almost exactly how he imagined kissing Derek would be, and Stiles sighed into it. It was great but short lived, when Derek pulled back and said, “Wait, wait.”

Stiles whined and leaned in to kiss him again, but Derek just leaned further back. “You don't hate me?” he asked, brows furrowed with confusion but eyes shining with happiness.

Stiles rolled his eyes and snorted. “No, dumbass.” He leaned in, pecking Derek's lips quickly. “But you really need to let me do my damn job, or else this isn't going to work. At all.”

Derek's smile was almost blinding. “Okay,” he said in a lowered voice, then leaned in to kiss him again, and Stiles kissed him back.

It wasn't for long this time either, however, because then Derek's arms tightened around Stiles and Stiles was reminded of his inhuman strength.

“Oh my God,” he breathed as he pulled back, eyes wide and lips pulled back in a wide grin. “You could totally just pick me up and fuck me against a wall, couldn't you?”

Derek laughed and shook his head fondly. “Baby steps, Stiles.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> come cry about fictional characters with me over on [tumblr](http://hoechlbutt.tumblr.com/).


End file.
